


I Love You. You're Perfect. You Idiot.

by beltainefaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, First Time, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6231169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock goes off suppressants and gets more than he imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You. You're Perfect. You Idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> Pure PWP. I was without internet and have been trying to write everyday, so put pen to paper and this is what emerged. I've been posting a lot lately, but just little things, trying to find my way back to the muses for my longer stories. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy! Thanks also to Mer for betaing.

John sat across from Sherlock and tried to concentrate on his book, mask firmly in place blocking most of the scent. Wouldn’t do to go feral in the middle of the sitting room, so he wore the damn thing. John was sure he’d be near enough to that if he could actually smell Sherlock. His scent was delicious enough even outside of heat. But he had been ignoring it for months. He’d make it through this, too. Even if he had read the same paragraph three times and still couldn’t tell you what it had been about. 

“This is your fault, you know,” Sherlock glowered.

John merely arched his brow in response, at first, but when Sherlock sunk deeper into the couch glaring at him, John added, “You know, when I told you it was unhealthy to be on suppressants for so many years without a break, I didn’t mean you should just go off them with no provisions.”

“I bought you a mask.”

“Ta. Thoughtful, that. Not exactly what I meant, though.”

In a flurry of motion and fury, Sherlock launched himself off the sofa. “How do people function like this!” He stripped off his dressing gown and tossed it away, flopping back down on the sofa in just his pants.

“They don’t, Sherlock. Paid leave passed, remember? It’s like sick time? I know you’re self employed, but I honestly wouldn’t think you’d have deleted that. Might be relevant to alibis and what have you. In any event, you aren’t supposed to ‘function’. You’re supposed to shag.”

“Oh, thanks for that. Brilliant. Really. Who on earth am I going to get to do that?”

“Christ, Sherlock!” John dropped the book.

“I’m serious, John. Most people would rather not be in the same room with me let alone taking me to bed for several days. So, enlighten me. I’ll even say ‘please’. You must have something to say on the subject. Quite the reputation, even if you haven’t gotten any in months.”

“No one you’re interested in, apparently,” John spat bitterly before he could even try to stop himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sherlock snapped.

“You’re so brilliant I’m sure you can figure that out.”

Sherlock huffed, “Fine. Don’t explain,” and rolled over, curling his face into the sofa cushions.

John tried valiantly to ignore the dark spot of slick spreading on Sherlock’s pants and took a steadying breath. It didn’t help. “It means that _I_ spend nearly every waking minute with you, you daft bastard. I haven’t left yet and don’t intend to. And for your information, I stopped trying to date random omegas ages ago, because even if I can get a leg over without you calling me off somewhere. I find it painful that they don’t smell like you!” he fumed, before his eyes went wide and he scrubbed his hand over his face. “You know what? Delete that. I’m sorry. That’s not your problem. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

Sherlock blinked up at him for one second before tackling him. He raised a hand to John’s mask before catching himself, pausing just long enough to ask, “You would share this heat with me?”

“If you’ll have me, I’ll share everything with you.”

Sherlock ripped the mask off and John inhaled deeply and then they were kissing. With a moan that was nearly a growl, John flipped them, pinning Sherlock beneath him. Their cocks slotted together even through the confines of his denims, it felt amazing. Sherlock rutted up against him and John hissed in a breath through clenched teeth. “That feels far too good. Keep that up, and you won’t get what I’m pretty certain you really want. Need, in fact.”

He kissed and nipped down Sherlock’s chest and belly, before whispering, “But first, I want to taste you.”

Sherlock whimpered and bucked his hips in response, sliding his damp pants off and parting his thighs in invitation.

John’s cock throbbed with desire at the sight and he unfastened his flies and pushed his trousers down past his hips to relieve the pressure. 

He bent his head down and licked a long, wet stripe up Sherlock’s prick, sliding two fingers down along his perineum, eliciting a sharp gasp. He pressed back further, circling his fingers over Sherlock’s slick-soaked entrance.

“John,’ Sherlock moaned, a plea, ann offering, an entreaty, his voice low and rough with need.

John smiled to himself as he breached Sherlock’s entrance, his fingers sliding deep. “So wet,” he murmured before dipping his head lower to lap with light teasing strokes at the slick that seeped from the sensitive flesh of Sherlock’s hole, stretched taut around his fingers. 

Sherlock trembled and pushed back against him. 

John pulled back long enough to whisper, “Delicious,” his warm breath somehow making Sherlock shiver.

“Don’t stop,” Sherlock panted, and John curled his fingers slightly, making Sherlock gasp before he pointed his tongue, pressing in alongside his fingers, wrenching a startled cry from Sherlock’s throat.

After a few minutes such attention Sherlock squirmed and writhed, murmuring unintelligibly until John caught, “Baise moi,” and realized what Sherlock was saying quietly in nearly every language he knew.

John pulled back grinning and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ask me in English and I will. I want to hear you.”

Sherlock met his gaze with eyes blazing and deliberately articulated, “I need you. Fill me, knot me. Fuck me, John.”

John kissed him deeply before he lined up and did just as Sherlock asked, feeling Sherlock open for him, hot and ready and so very wet. He thrust fast and hard, with Sherlock goading him on, moaning obscene phrases in his ear. 

Sherlock curled around him, kissing and nipping anywhere he could reach, panting and rolling his hips up to meet John’s thrusts.

“Are you going to come for me? Come while I’m deep inside you? You can feel it can’t you, my knot swelling in you? Ready to lock us together. Are you ready for that? This is what you need, isn’t it?”

Sherlock groan, “Yes, John, John,” softly chanting his name until it seemed he would never say anything else again, and shaking as he clung to John. 

It didn’t last as long as he would have liked, but they were both too keyed up to take their time. He drove in harder and then held Sherlock close as he felt his knot expand to its fullest. He couldn’t pull out, just rocking their hips together. 

“That’s it,” John murmured. “Let go. I’ve got you,” John said, stroking his hand over Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock pulsed around him every time he gave a little twist of his wrist on the upstroke, palm sliding over the sensitive head. He quickened his pace and the rocking of his hips and then they were coming nearly together, Sherlock clamping down deliciously on his knot.

This time was hard and fast and over too quickly, but John contented himself with the fact that they had the rest of the night, in fact the next few days to enjoy each other.

And with any luck, all the heats hereafter.

He kissed Sherlock again, but he couldn’t move much more, locked together as they were. “That was…” he began, before Sherlock cut in.

“Perfect.”


End file.
